


Stitches

by Amuly



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Flirting, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-06
Updated: 2011-06-06
Packaged: 2017-11-04 00:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuly/pseuds/Amuly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during the bromance recruiting montage, Erik gets injured and needs stitches. Charles patches him up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stitches

Charles tutted as he carefully threaded the stitching thread through the needle. “That's what you get for starting a fight in a bar in Canada. I haven't the foggiest what you were thinking.”

From his position on the crummy single mattress in their temporary accommodations at the motel, Erik growled. “I was thinking,” he snarled, “that I can control metal with my mind, and that my idiot of a friend wouldn't stop me from tossing a few knives around!” Erik started forward as he berated Charles, only to stop with hiss and grab his arm, pressing some already blood-soaked rags against the gash. “Verdammt.”

With the practiced eye of a young man who had stitched up a few of his more foolhardy college friends after a good rugby match, Charles stared at the needle. Satisfied that he had done that part properly, he carefully edged himself onto the bed, straddling Erik. Gently he tugged Erik's hand away from the cut and rags, mopping up a bit of slowly leaking blood from it as he got a good look. “This might hurt a bit.”

Before he could begin Charles found the needle and thread being plucked from his fingers by an invisible hand, to float between them. He quirked an I-am-not-amused eyebrow at Erik. “I could do this myself,” Erik suggested, tracing little circles in the air with the needle.

With a gentle smile Charles plucked the needle from Erik's mental grasp. “Ah,” Charles mused as he bent over Erik's arm, “but I know how to sew _neatly_ , so as to leave as small of a scar as possible.”

As the needle first pierced Erik's skin, the man grunted, shifting slightly beneath Charles' thighs. Opening his mind just a crack, Charles felt the tiny flares of pain in Erik's mind with each tug of thread through his skin, and each fresh prick of the needle. “Sorry,” he whispered.

A hand brushed at Charles' hair, though he didn't draw his attention away from where he was working to look up at Erik. “It's not bad.”

Charles smirked. “Liar,” he chided, taking a moment to lift his hand clutching bloody rags to his temple and tap it meaningfully.

“Yeah, well.” Erik's hand drifted down to Charles' neck, squeezing it between his thick fingers. “Not the worst I've endured.”

Charles' hand rattled in its movements just for a second as a flash of painful memories battered at the edge of his awareness, coming off Erik like a stormy sea battering at a rocky shore. He took a breath, gaze kept carefully trained on Erik's laceration as he closed the chink in his mind, unable to concentrate with such raw pain streaming through. “That's not a lie,” he whispered. After a moment he resumed his careful stitches, threading the needle through as smoothly and gently as he possibly could. Erik's hand stayed on his neck the whole time, fingers squeezing and relaxing minutely as the pain ebbed and flowed.

“There.” As Erik made to move, Charles pressed his fingertips to his chest, holding him in place. “ _Wait_ ,” he ordered, exasperation creeping into his voice. 

Thankfully, Eric did stay in place as Charles lifted himself off of him and strode back over to their small first aid kit. A smile quirked at Erik's lips as Charles returned with cotton balls, gauze, and tape. “It isn't exactly the worst wound I've sustained,” Erik teased as Charles straddled him once again. “I could go without the Florence Nightingale routine.”

Charles shook his head as he carefully wrapped Erik's arm, hair brushing across his forehead as he did. “I'm not having any more of your body blemished because of some brute in the back end of beyond, Canada.” Finished, Charles bent his head and pressed a kiss just above the gauze. He felt Erik's muscles twitch beneath his lips. “No pulling the stitches,” he teased. 

Sure enough, as soon as he pulled away Erik made to flex his arm. Charles was ready for it, though, and pressed just slightly into Erik's mind: just enough to hold his arm in place. His action was met by a vicious glare from Erik. 

“What did I just say?”

“Fine,” Erik huffed. Glancing down at where Charles' thighs were wrapped around his own, and their hips fleetingly brushed, Eric raised his eyebrows. “Well then do you feel like doing all the work for a change?”

“For a _change_?” Charles made as if he were affronted, even as he leaned down to press a kiss to Erik's nose. Before Erik could begin divesting them of their clothing – or trousers, at least – Charles sent out one more probing tendril of his mind, opening himself to Erik's pain. The stitches stung: little fresh needles of pain up and down the wound. They felt tight with every movement, like the slightest flex would rip them out, popping the wound wide open again. But along with Erik's pain came Erik's knowledge, his history of categorizing pain and putting it in context. He knew what stitches felt like, what they were supposed to feel like, and he knew that Charles had done a good job.

“You done?” 

Charles refocused on Erik, who was smiling softly up at him. “Just checking,” he reassured Erik.

“I know.” Erik's hands slid down Charles' body, skillful fingers sliding under Charles' waistband, tugging at his shirt. “Now can we...”

Charles grinned as he let himself be dragged down into another kiss, moaning as Erik's tongue slid against his own. Even as he let Erik drag one arm tight around him, Charles made sure a small portion of his attention remained focused on Erik's injury. No point letting such careful work go to waste.

  


  


 


End file.
